


Protection

by Louhetar



Series: Jonmund Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Free Folk Jon, Husbands, Jon just has to accept it, Jonmund, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Magical Tattoos, Rituals, Tormund is protective af, Tumblr Prompt, Warg Jon Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 20:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20377606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louhetar/pseuds/Louhetar
Summary: Answer to a tumblr prompt! this time it's "protection".Tormund asks Jon to get a magical protection tattoo.





	Protection

“I need a what?” Jon asks curiously.

“A protection tattoo,” Tormund replies patiently.

“But I already have one.” He holds up his hand, showing a tattoo of a blue crow on the back.

“Uh-uh, that is a Mate Tattoo, foolish Crow.”

A matching one of a grey bear sits on top of Tormund’s hand, marking them as married.

They’re walking through the woods, game they caught slung over their shoulders. It’s still very cold, but snow is falling lightly today, slowly covering their hair in white. Jon moves closer to Tormund for warmth and he smiles softly at the smaller man. Despite the number of furs Jon’s buried in, his husband still gets cold quickly.

“These mark us as mates, or husbands if you prefer,” he adds, knowing the term would make Jon smile. It never fails to, and it still doesn’t this time. He loves how Jon’s face smoothes over when he smiles, the black-haired man doing it more and more often these days, to his delight.

“But protection tattoos? Those are strong magic, only practised by our wise-women.”

“Why don’t you have one?” Jon asks sceptically. He doesn’t like the idea of meddling with more magic. He’s accepted his warg powers,( ok, that’s a lie, he loves prowling the trees as a direwolf), but magic is still something foreign to him, something to fear.

“Who says I don’t?” Tormund laughs.

“Huh? I’ve never noticed any as such on you.”

The laugh that answers him is so bright Jon can’t help but smile back at him.

Tormund stops and puts down the deer he’s carrying before tugging his furs down, showing his muscled, scar and freckle covered back. “Look closely.”

Jon moves closer and scans his back, but can’t see any tattoo. “What-” That’s when he notices it. He thought it was a big scar at first. He traces the regular, delicate white, lines on Tormund’s left shoulder blade. It resembles the letter Y but with one more prong running through the middle of it.   
  
“What is it? Why is it white?”

“It’s called Algiz; it’s a protection rune. As for the colour, it’s done with a sacred ink. When it turns white, it means it’s working. How do you think such a mad fucker like me is still alive?” He chuckles at his joke, but when he puts his furs back and turns back to Jon, his expression is serious.

“Why do you think I need one?” Jon asks.

“Are you joking? Do you remember when you leapt from a dragon? When you fell into the freezing water and I had to warm you up by lying on top of you? Or when you decided to just yell at an undead dragon that could roast your ass?”

“Ok, ok, I see your point,” Jon interrupts.

“Jon,” Tormund’s hand cups his cheek softly and he presses his forehead to his small husband’s. “I already lost you once. I shudder every time I see those wounds.” His hand moves over Jon’s heart, where he knows the final, killing blow came.

“Alright,” comes the quiet reply.

*

The next day they wake up at dawn and Tormund brings them to Solveig, a woman from The Frostfangs clan who agreed to be their spiritual guide. When they come inside her tent, Jon’s nervous. The place is thrumming with something that he learned to identify as magic and spirits.

The woman is old. It’s a miracle she survived White walkers. They lost so many…

“What brings you here Giantsbane, Red-Eyed?” Jon twitches, still not fully used to his clan name, but he wears it with pride.

“We come to ask for a protection sign for him,” Tormund starts, but gets interrupted.

“Let the Red-Eyed speak.”

Jon’s nervous; he doesn’t know what to expect. “As he said, I come to ask for the Algiz symbol.”

The woman studies his face, her eyes bright and vigorous despite the old age.

“Where would the Red-Eyed have it?”

Jon thought about it when he couldn’t sleep this night. He sheds his furs and points to his chest, rightat the blow that took his life.

“Right here.”

“So be it. Lay down.”

He removes his top furs and lies down. Tormund sits in the corner and gives him a reassuring smile.

Solveig comes back to him after a moment, bringing a small jar with a blue substance and a set of sharpened bones.

Jon makes sure not to gulp, but he’s nervous nonetheless.

The woman notices but doesn’t scoff; instead, she nods. “You have rights to be nervous, Red-Eyed. Magic comes from The Gods, the same as your gift. You’re one of the strongest wargs I’ve ever met. Cherish your gift.”

Jon relaxes a bit and lets out a breath he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding.

The first stab of the needle stings painfully, especially when the ink gets rubbed inside of the wound, but soon he gets used to the pain. The wise woman starts a slow, low chant in a dialect of the Old Tongue he doesn’t recognise. One look at Tormund, watching the ritual quietly, makes it obvious that neither does the ginger man. A spell then.

The process takes quite a long time; a few hours for sure. When the needle stops touching his skin he startles, having gotten used to the rhythmical beat of the needle and slow spell weaving.

“Now, Red-Eyed, for it to start working you need to drink this and go to sleep. If the Gods are with you, it will turn white like snow.”

Jon takes the water skin and the stench of what’s inside makes his nose curl, but he listens and down the foul, thick tincture.

“Lay down here; you will most likely leave your body as soon as you fall asleep. Don’t get lost Red-Eyed. Stay close.”

*

When Jon opens his eyes, it’s dark around him. He picks out Tormund’s worried face above him.

“You’ve been gone for a long time, Little Crow, but it worked,” he says proudly, smiling at him fondly. “What do you remember?”

Jon gazes at him. “That’s the thing, I don’t remember anything.” Then he looks down his chest and gasps.

A big sign, that once was blue and bloody, is now fully healed. But not only that, it’s not just white; it glistens lightly, just like snow.

Solveig’s voice catches his attention. “I don’t know where you went, and which Gods you met, but I’ve never seen a Protection Rune this strong. You truly must be liked by Them. But don’t think that you’re invincible with it. It works as a help, not prevention. Now get up, I have work to do. Off you go.”

Jon walks out bare-chested, still stunned at the symbol on his chest. He can feel it buzz lightly.

“The glow will die down with time, don’t worry,” Tormund says, breaking him from a trance. He forgot his husband was here with him.

“It vibrates,” he says in wonder.

“As it should; means it’s working.” He gathers the smaller man to his side and Jon realises that it’s actually cold and his teeth clatter.

“Come on Jon, let’s get you fed and warm.” Tormund laughs softly at the confused man. “It’s night already.”

“Wait, you stayed there all this time?”

The bigger man gives him an accusing look. “Of course I did.”

Jon’s expression softens and his chest fills with affection.

“Thank you,” he whispers quietly.

Tormund grabs his neck softly and presses his forehead to Jon’s lightly.

“Just please promise me you’ll be careful. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

“I promise,” he replies and kisses him softly.


End file.
